On The Rocks
by Mocha Flavored Jelly Beans
Summary: drabblet : Just Jack & Pitch in a bar being my absolute favorite people in the world. Rated T for implications of the sexuals. [[Cross Posted On AO3]]


_On The Rocks_

_-Mocha Flavored Jelly Beans_

The campus library was absolutely packed. If Jack had thought it through all the way, which of course he hadn't, he would have been able to guess. It was finals week at Bradford U (home of the Opossums), and as that was the only reason he himself was going there, he should have known everyone else would have been in there too.

He sighed, a bit disappointed, he needed somewhere quiet and he couldn't study in his dorm room, because it was too comfortable and filled with his own things, which would end up distracting him the same way they had for his entire college career. It was bad enough that all of his video games were in there, but so was his laptop (the internet offering endless possibilities), and his roommate Aster, who could be a complete pain in the ass, but was also spectacularly gifted with the power to make Jack laugh and procrastinate, was in there too.

Aster was supposed to be studying as well, but Jack knew he wouldn't if he stayed in their room, and Jack couldn't invite him along because he really needed to do this work. There were times when they had assignments that were not as important as the one Jack was attempting to finish now, and they would go into a restaurant or a bar and study at a table. Those were times when jokes and diversions (like throwing candy into each other's mouths from across the table) were welcomed additions.

The paper Jack had to write now, though, was worth a pretty decent chunk of his Theory of Personality grade; it was due the next day and Jack had barely started.

He didn't want to go into any of the restaurants around campus because it was the middle of the day and he knew there would be a lot of people in there. He went to a lounge close to campus, that he and Aster studied at sometimes, and often got beers together after late night classes.

It was the same as the library; packed with students who had probably procrastinated just as much as Jack had and were running out of places to congregate. He walked a few more blocks, he had to find somewhere to concentrate or this paper wouldn't get started (and by get started he really meant read the required material and take notes, the typing he could do tomorrow).

Jack had never been inside of _On The Rocks_, he'd gone in because he was starting to get cold, was tired of walking, and really needed to stop procrastinating; because to be honest, telling himself that he needed a quiet place and then going on a quest for it was all part of the game. He didn't wanna do work, he wanted to do something else. Everything else.

Inside the bar, the lighting was low and it smelled like alcohol and smoke. Jack didn't mind, though he didn't smoke, Aster often did and it wasn't a bother.

His fun was over, because the bar was pretty empty, and therefore it was quiet enough to do work in. There were two patrons (sitting at opposite ends of the bar nursing beers), a man partially clocked in shadow in the far right corner, the bartender, and a waitress. The waitress (whose name-tag honest to God said 'Candy') offered him a seat towards to back of the bar. He asked her for a root beer, figuring the sugar would give him enough energy to not die of boredom.

She sat him at a table which put the man in the corner into his direct line of vision. The man, Jack noticed quickly, had an untouched drink, and was bent over a book. He looked too old to be a student too, maybe he was a teacher. He could have been taking a lunch break. Or maybe he was just bored.

Jack's thoughts were threatening to get out of control, the way he liked to let them when he wasn't in the mood for formal education. He could daydream with the best of them. The man looked up quickly and made eye contact with Jack, who wondered if he could read minds and knew that Jack had been analyzing him. His gaze lingered just a little too long and Jack couldn't help but notice that his eyes were a hazel-gold that reflected beautifully in the low light being admitted from a bulb hanging above his table. They nodded at one another in acknowledgement at the same time. The man went back to reading.

Jack sat at his table, sipping his soda, and sighing into his book that was the most boring portrayal of narcissism he'd ever had the displeasure of encountering. He tried to take notes, and told himself to stop drawing stick figures in the lines of his notebook.

His light was eclipsed. He thought maybe the waitress had come back, although he hadn't finished his root beer and had told her that he didn't need anything to eat (tempted as he was to use eating as yet another form of distraction). It was the corner-man. He was staring down in a way that made Jack feel on edge, though he didn't know why.

"Book any good?" He asked him, and there was humor in his voice. Maybe he really could read minds, and was acutely aware of how bored Jack was becoming.

Jack held the book up, showcasing the seriousness of the title, "The humor is a bit choppy, but you know, nothing I can't handle." Jack waved his hand in a dismissive motion and smiled.

"May I take a seat? Your constant sighing was distracting me from my reading, I thought I might return the favor." He smirked down at Jack, whose eyes widened in surprise. The way he smirked was…unbalanced. Jack could think of no other way to describe it; something about it was purely predatory, promising a darkness that could easily tip into a vicious measure of malice, but not before offering the ride of your life. Jack thought this man was dangerous, and that thought made his heart speed up, his face flush. A little danger could mean a real good time.

"It's only fair," Jack gave him permission to sit.

He lowered himself in one fluid movement that suggested a poise most people could only dream of mastering. Jack himself was reasonably clumsy; he didn't fall a lot, but he was known to drop things.

"I'm Jack, by the way. I'm supposed to be studying but please distract me."

He'd been there for ten minutes and wanted to bludgeon himself to death with his book.

"I don't know if I should allow that. I don't want you blaming me later, when you fail your test."

"It's only a paper." Jack decided he wouldn't say how important of a paper.

"Well then, if it's only a paper. My name is Kozmotis, Kozmotis Pitchiner. But, you can call me Pitch. May I buy you a real drink?" He asked, offering his hand and inclining his head towards Jack's soda. It made him feel very young compared to this man who was at least thirty.

Jack took Pitch's offered hand, and tried not to dwell on how smooth his skin was.

"Sure, please." Though Jack knew he shouldn't drink because then he'd never do anything productive.

Pitch called the waitress over in one elegant hand gesture. He asked for another rum and coke, with lime, and then looked towards Jack expectantly. Jack was relieved, the level of self possession this man seemed to have made Jack think that he'd order for him.

Not to be outdone, Jack ordered a scotch on the rocks and managed not to look too pleased with himself.

"You drink scotch?" Pitch asked, intrigued. Jack thought about lying to maintain his persona, but the way Pitch looked at him, concentrated and powerful, made him not want to lie.

"I've never had it," Jack admitted and they both laughed. He wondered if Pitch knew why he'd ordered it in the first place, he seemed like the type of guy who knew how to dissect human behavior.

The scotch was not good, but Jack downed it anyway, and he could feel it burn all down his throat and settle hotly in his stomach. He'd stick with his fruity martinis from now on. He contorted his face in disapproval. That drink had been awful, and the after taste was even worse than the uncomfortable burn that wouldn't relent.

"I don't like scotch either. What I do like, however, are pretty boys eager to please. I'll pay for our drinks and let's take this back to my place, shall we?"

Jack couldn't deny that the forward nature with which he'd said that turned him on immediately. And the sharpness of his canines made Jack wonder what it would be like to have this man's teeth sink into his flesh. Maybe draw a little blood.

He'd had one night stands before, but never with someone so old, mostly other college students he'd met at parties. He thought maybe that'd mean Pitch would know how to please him in ways he'd never considered possible before…_no!_

Jack shook his head, he'd let himself get distracted again.

Caught up in fantasies of pleasure, daydreaming about a man across the room that was too engrossed in his own book to have paid Jack any real attention.

Ok, focus.

Jack decided this was not the time to fall in love with a stranger and imagine romantic rendezvous that went from a bar to a luxurious apartment where he imagined this man would live.

He put some headphones in (allowing himself one last interruption) before he buckled down and began to read the chapters he thought sounded important. At some point he didn't have to force himself to concentrate, when he realized that under the surface of big words and small difficult words, this book had interesting things to say on the subject of narcissism; how its many facets could be incorporated into interactions he'd had with people, without his having even noticed.

Engrossed in his book and note taking, Jack didn't see when the man left. The man hadn't looked in his direction again anyway.

* * *

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